Quaking Ch. 26

Chapter 26: Cade

Cade was winded. The hike to the top of the ridge line in his ski boots, nonetheless, had been brutal. Air so cold the exhale of his breath crystalized into little fog clouds of ice flakes burned his lungs. When he topped the ridge, a gust nearly knocked him over.

Beauty spread before him. Ice-capped peaks rippled away to the east, like waves upon a white ocean. West, a deep valley and more mountains. It was the kind of beauty he loved. It should have brought him peace.

God damn it, that woman! He could not excise her. In a few short days, she'd co-oped his heart and made it all her own. She now lived there with her icy, razor nails, lacerating him with his every thought. He should've been at the job site—helping where he could. But he could not see her, talk to her. He was afraid of what he might say. He couldn't be hurt any more than he was. Joy'd already ruined him. But as much as he hated it, he would not, could not, out her in front of others. As much as he wanted her to know his pain, he did not want to hurt her, especially in the eyes of others.

But that's what would happen if they came face to face. He would lash out, explode. He'd call her every nasty name ever invented, mean none of them and regret all of them before they even exited his mouth. He'd do it in front of Steve, whom she clearly had a thing for. The man was an asshole, but there was no accounting for the tastes of people and there was no other rational explanation for her behavior. Cade would weaponize Joy's time with himself and use it against her. But as much as his ego wanted to eviscerate her, he, his heart, did not. He could not trust himself.

So, rather than working, he'd made a hike to a view that he should've loved to do a ski run that should've had him vibrating with excitement. But he felt nothing but pain. Pain in his heart. Pain in his head. He'd tried to stay away because he knew the woman would wreck him when she left. Cade had never anticipated her leaving while there was still potential for spending time together. This was so, so, much worse than never seeing her again. The startup, when he did need to be at work, would be the worst days of his life.

Cade made a careful bed for his skies in the snow—he did not need them slipping down either side of the ridge—and clipped in. He looked down the mountain. It was steeper, tougher and more technical than he was used to doing. He'd done this kind of thing once or twice when he was younger and had a death wish. At this moment, right now, death almost seemed a pleasant escape. But he now had two hells, an eternity with Heather and an eternity with Joy. He preferred the first. Heather had wounded him. There was no word that could possibly express the pain Joy had inflicted. This was not Heather blowing Derik all over again. Joy and Steve were so, so much worse. And he hadn't even seen anything.

Cade got it. He didn't own Joy. He didn't want to own Joy. He didn't want her to not be herself because she was frightened of how it might affect him. But he sure as hell wanted Joy. As far as he could tell, Steve wasn't even into Joy. Steve might look at Joy's boobs, Joy's ass, but that's as far as it went. Unrequited love, that Cade could understand. Holy hell, could he understand.

He made a snap decision and picked a line. Cade threw himself off the ridge. If death was waiting, he'd embrace it at heartbreak speeds.

Too soon, too soon, he'd reached the bottom of what would be the Summit Lift—and his heart was still pulsing the acid that was Joy through his veins. A hundred yards above, he powered into a stop that threatened to break his legs. Joy stood, head down, looking at her phone on the catwalk deck outside the drive room. Even in a hard hat and Carhartt jacket, the color and shape of sackcloth, the sight of her took his breath away.

Cade's picture of heaven and hell in the very same image.

As he watched, her eyes rose from her phone to gaze down the mountain. After a long, held breath, she turned and entered the drive room. Things on the job, or more likely, Steve—she was so much more competent than she understood—mustn't've been going her way. She looked...dejected.

Cade checked to make sure none of the electricians had tried to contact him and then skied a wide track around the job site. He noted another text from Joy but ignored it. His heart couldn't take another proverbial 'fuck you,' and while he wanted to be a better man, he simply couldn't trust himself with her right now—probably ever. She was a smart woman; she'd find whatever answer she needed elsewhere. It wasn't like he was the only person on the planet that knew Toshiba drives. He considered calling Jasper and begging for a way out. But Jasper probably didn't have a way out. Casey's wife was still sick, although the last time he'd checked in, it seemed like the worst was over. Death no longer loomed.

God, with tragedy in the cards, Cade's heartbreak over Joy wouldn't even register on Jasper's nightmare problems to manage list. Trying to push the thoughts that'd pinioned his heart aside, Cade skied the day away.

He was utterly unsuccessful. Not the ski part, the pushing his thoughts aside part. There were still a few hours left on Moose Mountain's night ski schedule when he gave up. Figuring the only place Joy and Steve could be bunking was the lodge, Cade bypassed Rocky's and went into town in the hope, need, not to run into them.

It was a good plan. He did not see them at the Elkhorn. Disaster struck on the way back to the lodge.

As he passed Snow Bunnies, a man taller than Sin led the brightest light of heaven through the entry.

Snow Bunnies? A breastaurant? Cade wouldn't've taken Joy there. Cade wouldn't've gone there. Was Joy down with that kind of thing?

Or was it all Steve?